


Horrible Things Indeed

by PettyMermaidsGf



Category: Revenge (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, I head-canon Emily as bisexual and Ashley as needing a break, Morning After, Oops, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, if the plot is me staring at the pretty cast and wondering how I can write smut for them all, yes I watch this show for the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25436725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PettyMermaidsGf/pseuds/PettyMermaidsGf
Summary: Amanda Clarke used to have friends. And now as Emily, some twenty years later…she doesn’t allow herself the luxury. Brief allies, briefer acquaintances, and the occasional straggler she doesn't kick out of her bed as soon as she probably should, though? Those, she allows.Funny how Ashley Davenport is one of those stragglers. Funnier still how she doesn't want to poison her over breakfast the morning after. Actually, it's kind of horrible.
Relationships: Ashley Davenport/Emily Thorne
Kudos: 6





	Horrible Things Indeed

**Author's Note:**

> Hints of the night before and the morning after between Emily Thorne and Ashley Davenport; yes, I obviously watch this show for the plot, and by "the plot", I mean, the pretty cast - what about it?
> 
> This fic wasn't beta'ed in any way shape or form, so like Vance Joy says, this mess is mine <3

Amanda Clarke had friends, once. She’d list them all by name and age and tell you absolutely everything about them, the way only a seven-year old little girl can. That was before - everything.

And now as Emily, some twenty years later,…she doesn’t allow herself the luxury of friends. It’s too dangerous. Too much of a risk. She only allows herself brief allies and even briefer acquaintances, and from time to time the occasional straggler who she can’t quite manage to kick out of her bed as soon as she probably should.

She looks to Ashley Davenport still asleep beside her, eyes closed to the world and expression more serene than when awake, and thinks that yes, she should have kicked this one out much sooner.

But late last night they’d got to talking, and laughing, and one glass of wine had lead to another, and then they’d kissed, and kissed, and kissed, as the moonlit tides rushed to the shore and then ebbed back out into the dark ocean again, and well-

~~_(Well, maybe she'd missed having a friend. A secret keeper. A spot place to land. Maybe she'd missed feeling safe, and known, and, and and-)_ ~~

By the time they’d made it upstairs to her bed, and christened it with their heated breath and tangled legs and low moans and Ashley’s beautiful, beautiful curls moving above Emily as their hips came together again and again…

Honestly? By that point, Emily had forgotten why she didn’t usually let people stay the night. By that point, Emily had forgotten why she didn’t usually let people stay, didn’t usually let people in, didn’t usually let people see the bits and pieces of herself (whether that’s Emily or Amanda, she doesn’t know anymore) she’d tried so fucking hard to keep under lock and key.

It’s funny, she supposes, what a night in the Hamptons, a bottle of expensive wine, and a new friend brings out in her. But she can’t say it’s surprising in the least - she’s always been this way, long before the siren’s song of revenge had called to her.

She wonders, sometimes, if they might’ve been real friends, her and Ashley. She wonders, sometimes, if Ashley would’ve liked the girl she was before, if she would’ve liked Amanda - if they would’ve gotten on better, or worse, or have grown to be real and proper girlfriends the way that she, as Emily, cannot ever give her. It’s dangerous, this line of wonder. Because wondering can lead to regret, and regret…regret can make people say and do horrible, horrible things.

So Emily tries her best to shove those thoughts down as away as she sneaks a look at her still-sleeping bed mate and gently runs a hand through Ashley’s dark curls. She wonders if the ghost of the sweet and hopeful girl she’d once been could’ve grown up to be a better friend to her. But there’s no use wondering about ghosts, is there?

“Morning, love,” How her British accent sounds even lovelier in the early morning, Emily will never know.

She doesn’t open her eyes just yet, but she’s smiling all the same. The morning sunlight brings out the warm undertones in her light brown skin and the faintest trace of freckles that dot her nose.

Emily’s struck by the sudden and horrible urge to kiss the smile off Ashley’s face and turn it into a real grin beneath the gentle scrape of her teeth and the impossibly slow, teasing swipe of her tongue across Ashley’s full bottom lip, and that…that is a horrible thing indeed.

“You want another round then, or are you kicking me out so soon?” Ashley teases, opening her eyes to the sun and the immaculate bedroom around them.

“Well, it’d be rather rude of me to kick you out before breakfast, wouldn’t it?” Emily asks around a surprisingly easy smile of her own, and inwardly marvels at the fact that she doesn’t even want to poison Ashley’s meal today. Not even a little bit. Maybe not even at all. And isn't that all the more horrible, then?

It certainly should be.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi yes hullo, pls don't spoil the plot for me because I'm living for the white, rich, Hamptons DRAMA behind it all - why did no one tell me this beautiful nonsense was based off The Count of Monte Cristo?!
> 
> (And yes, I know Emily and Jack get married - it's fine, I'll fic them too :p)


End file.
